After bidding Imogene good-by, I started on a rapid pace to the northward. At night I kindled a fire by which I slept in safety, and at an early hour resumed my journey. The character of the country continued much the same--broad belts of prairie relieved by groves of trees and streams of considerable magnitude. Birds of all kinds whirred through the air and sang within the wood, and the dark forms of wild animals were more than once seen gamboling in the distance. At noon I reached the banks of a river, so large that I was pretty certain it was the Yellowstone, and hence was able to judge pretty correctly of my locality. The river was very broad, and it was quite a serious undertaking to cross it; but, nevertheless, it had to be done, and I commenced making my preparations. As I was stepping in, a sound of voices struck me. I paused and listened, and soon could hear the loud, regular swelling song gradually approaching nearer and nearer, and at stated intervals the powerful chorus. There was something in the sound of this song, at such a time, that was indescribably stirring and inspiriting; and, as it came nigher and nigher, and grew louder, its power increased. Hardly satisfied of the nature of the approaching body, I withdrew a short distance, and waited its appearance. Soon a large canoe, nearly full of men, came to view around a bend some hundred yards distant, and it was instantly followed by another and another, all keeping time to the words of the song: We are going with the tide, Yoho! yoho! Free as the mountain-winds we glide, Yoho! yoho! Oh! ours is a merry life, Yoho! yoho! And full of danger, toil, and strife, Yoho! yoho! Then join your voices In the glad refrain, And let the mountains Echo back the strain. As over a score of majestic voices joined in the deep swelling chorus, the echoes were awakened for miles around. I watched them in wonder and admiration. Soon, to my surprise, they made toward the shore where I stood. As it was noon, they were probably putting in for their dinner. In a moment the boats were hauled up on the bank, and as rough and hardy a set of fellows as ever met, sprang upon the shore. A half dozen scattered along the bank, and in a moment returned bearing armfuls of sticks and fuel. A huge fire was soon blazing and roaring, an enormous quantity of meat steaming and spitting, and the men, excepting the cook, were lolling about on the grass, each one smoking and chatting, and making a scene of pleasant confusion and enjoyment. I now stepped forth from my concealment. Several turned their faces toward me as I passed them, but no unusual amount of astonishment was manifested. I made my way to a group of three, and seated myself beside them. “Whar’d you come from?” asked a short, gruff-looking man. “No place in particular, at present,” I replied, pleasantly. “One of them Nor’west chaps, I s’pose?”